


One Step Forward

by teacuphuman



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Daddy Kink, Dom!Eames, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Spanking, kitten play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 09:10:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7929028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacuphuman/pseuds/teacuphuman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames and Arthur explore their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Step Forward

**Author's Note:**

> God, I don't even know anymore. My hand slipped and this is what happened.
> 
> Sequel to [The Dark Creature](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7684804)  
> Inspired by [this](http://teacuphuman09.tumblr.com/post/149787481000/sequel-to-the-dark-creature-and-inspired-by-the) gifset.
> 
> UPDATE: There is now a sequel! [The 12 Days of Eamesmas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7684804).

Eames is shifting through a contract when the first message comes through. He thumbs his phone open and smiles at the photo Arthur’s sent. The boy is scowling, as he often is when Eames assigns him these little tasks, but there’s a brightness in his eyes that tells Eames this mission is hitting all Arthur’s buttons.

 

Arthur had been late arriving for their date the night before, claiming he’d lost track of time at the office. Eames reminded him of the very simple rules Arthur is expected to follow, and exiled him to the corner for the evening. In the end, Eames had relented and let him kip on the end of the bed for the night. He’d been so good after all, didn’t even argue when Eames took him by the scruff and shoved him to the floor. Just laid there in a little ball, silent and watchful, as Eames ate the dinner he’d prepared for them, and caught up on some reading.

 

In the morning, Eames let Arthur suck him off in the shower, then dressed his boy for the day. Arthur enjoyed having Eames pick out his clothes, and Eames enjoyed adding his own flair to Arthur’s meticulous wardrobe. Gone were the band t-shirts and ill-fitted jeans of their early days. Over the past four months, Eames had carefully replaced every piece of clothing Arthur owned with sleek and tailored suits and ties, sweaters and vests. His boy was something to look at now. Sharp and untouchable, just as he should be. No one would guess that when Arthur went home, it was to be tied to the bed and fucked until he screamed.

 

Before Eames put on Arthur’s shirt, he sat the boy on the bed and explained to him what his punishment would be for being late. When Arthur opened his mouth to protest, Eames slapped him across the face. Not hard enough to bruise, but enough to sting and make his eyes water. A warning, nothing more. Eames then took out a sharpie and very carefully wrote “Daddy’s Kitten” under Arthur’s collarbones. He picked out Arthur’s lightest white shirt, just thin enough to see that something was hiding underneath. He knotted his tie, and selected a vest, then he placed a headband atop Arthur’s carefully styled hair. When he moved the boy to the mirror, Arthur gasped at the two little cat ears poking up from his head.

 

He wanted to argue, Eames could tell. His face had gone red, and his fists were balled, but when Eames pet at his cheek and told him how pretty he looked, Arthur rubbed against his hand, just like a good little kitten. Off Arthur went to work, all dolled up, with the excuse of having lost a bet to explain his furry accessory.

 

The second part of Arthur’s punishment, is to send Eames photos of himself every hour, on the hour, to show he’s obeying. Arthur has a staff meeting this morning, nothing huge, just a weekly round up, but it ensures he’ll be seen by nearly everyone in the office. Those who aren’t in attendance will be sure to drop by once word gets around. 

 

By noon, Arthur’s facebook page is full of pictures he’s been tagged in. Pictures of Arthur, frowning, but still wearing the ears. It sends a thrill through Eames, knowing how embarrassed Arthur must be now that his carefully constructed serious demeanor has been compromised. It won’t kill Arthur to let go a little at work, he may even make a friend or two. Heaven knows the boy could use one.

 

Not that Eames isn’t his friend. When they’re not in session they do other, more traditional things, such as take walks and see movies. They visit museums, and they talk. They’re very much an ordinary couple. But Arthur’s an intense person, and being the center of his world can be overwhelming, even for Eames. He knows you can’t be everything to someone, it isn’t healthy. So far, his attempts to convince Arthur of this have failed.

 

Eames fears that if he were a weaker man, he’d hurt Arthur. Certainly the boy would let him. A month after they met, he’d had Arthur strung up on a chain, arms stretched out above his head, blindfolded and spinning slowly in place while Eames waited and smoked. Sometimes Arthur just needed a few minutes to settle. 

 

“You can burn me you like.” Arthur had said, voice small.

 

Eames, shocked, grabbed Arthur by the chin, ripping off the blindfold. “No, darling, never.”

 

Arthur squinted against the smoke in his eyes. “But if you wanted-”

 

“Daddy doesn’t hurt you Arthur,” Eames told him sternly, forcing the boy to hold his gaze. “Daddy only ever gives you what you need. Daddy won’t ever harm you.”

 

Arthur had cried then, quick hot tears that shook his lithe frame. Eames had stubbed out the cigarette and lowered him to the ground, gathering him in his lap and folding him as tight into himself as he could get until he’d calmed down.

 

Since then, things have been easier. Arthur is more open with his requests, and Eames knows better where his boundaries lie. It’s not perfect, but it’s worth the work they put into it. His phone dings with another message, this one of Arthur somewhere with little light. He’s looking up at the camera from under his lashes, and the hint of smile on his face is enough to make Eames’ cock twitch. 

 

At three, Eames’ new furniture arrives and it’s all he can do not to sit in it before Arthur gets back. Draped in a lush, dark red, the wingback is more of a throne than a chair, really. The back of it sits five feet tall and curls backwards, just a bit. The sides extend out, giving it a regal feel, and the wooden legs are wide and sturdy. There are no arm rests, so it’s perfect for comfortably spreading Arthur over his lap. There’s even a matching cushion which will look beautiful under Arthur when he gets down on his knees.

 

When Arthur comes through the door at four forty-five, Eames has moved the chair to the center of the room, facing the door. He’s changed into a black suit and white shirt, top three buttons undone to reveal his tattoos. He’s sprawled in the chair, legs wide, arms relaxed, one hand curled around a smooth wooden paddle where it rests on his thigh. Arthur’s eyes take in the tableau he’s presented and he closes and locks the door, dropping his bag and going to his knees. The ears are still on his head, slightly askew, as he waits for instruction. 

 

“Strip,” Eames says. “Daddy wants to see you.”

 

Arthur rushes to comply, his eagerness making Eames smile. Arthur sheds his clothes, making sure to fold them properly and place them on the stool allocated for the task. He sits on his heels, hands folded in his lap, ears still on his head, and looks at Eames. There’s already a flush in his cheeks; it spreads down his neck and across the writing on his chest. Eames wonders again at his luck. Finding Arthur, or rather, having Arthur find him, was a miracle. They match so perfectly Eames sometimes wonders if this is it for them. Arthur’s young yet, but he’s definitive in what he wants, and is growing stronger in his demands every day. It’s a point of pride for Eames, that he’s had a hand in Arthur’s journey, and he prays he can continue to be what the boy needs.

 

“Come here, pet.” Eames taps his leg with the paddle, noting the way Arthur’s eyes widen at the movement.

 

Arthur crawls forward and lays his head on Eames’ knee, butting gently at his fingers until they card through his hair. The ears fall forward a bit and Eames stops to fix them.

 

“You were such a good boy today. Daddy’s very proud. I know it was hard, but you did it.”

 

Arthur licks at Eames’ wrist, humming low in his throat.

 

“You going to purr for me, kitten?” Eames smiles, scratching across Arthur’s neck.

 

Arthur responds by rising to his knees and pushing his face closer to Eames’ groin, licking and nipping at the fabric of his pants.

 

“Oh, it’s like that, it is?” Eames chuckles. “Kitten wants to play?”

 

Arthur almost gets his mouth pressed to Eames’ growing erection before he’s gently pushed back. Eames adjusts himself, tutting at Arthur’s smug smile as he rubs his face against Eames’ knee.

 

“Up you come, lay across my lap. Daddy wants to play with his kitten.” 

 

Arthur gets to his feet and spreads himself over Eames, his arms and legs extending over either side of the chair. It’s the perfect width for Eames to cradle him and keep him steady, and once he’s settled, Eames strokes along his spine, enjoying the warm skin made available to him. Arthur’s always so generous with his body, and Eames has quickly grown spoiled.

 

Arthur gradually relaxes under his hands, head lolling against the outer side of Eames’ thigh. He can feel Arthur’s moist breaths through the fabric. Still petting Arthur’s back, Eames trails the flat blade of the paddle up the smooth expanse of Arthur’s inner thigh. Arthur startles and Eames moves his other hand to his mouth, pressing firmly to keep him muzzled. He can hear his neighbours conversing in the hallway, and while the sound of the paddle hitting flesh won’t bother them, Arthur’s cries will.

 

Eames rubs the paddle over Arthur’s ass, letting the edges bite into the swell of his cheek until it starts to turn red. Arthur whimpers quietly when Eames slides it between his cheeks, dragging it lightly over his hole. He tsks at the boy, running the paddle down to Arthur’s knee and laughing when his leg jerks in reaction.

 

“So sensitive, kitten.”

 

Arthur responds by wiggling, his special way of telling Eames to get on with it.

 

“Are your claws going to come out soon, little kitty?” he teases.

 

He runs the paddle back up to Arthur’s ass, bringing it down with a sharp snap. His skin turns red immediately, and Eames does it again, slightly lower. Arthur groans, rocking forward with each hit, his cock rapidly swelling and rubbing against Eames’ thigh. Eames switches sides, bringing his arm down with more force as Arthur’s pressed forward, his cries muffled by Eames’ hand. Eames wishes they were something physical, something he could gather in his palm and swallow down once they’re done.

 

In between strikes, Eames rubs the paddle into Arthur’s swelling flesh. He can feel the tears leaking from Arthur’s eyes, but the boy is moaning and pushing back into it. Today was stressful for him, Eames knows, and he’s going to need a little extra care in return for stepping out of his comfort zone.

 

Arthur’s flesh is starting to flare, red and angry, but he’s still bracing against the floor and arching into the strokes, so Eames gives him a few more, lower on his thighs, before stopping. Arthur whimpers in protest when the paddle hits the floor, but Eames pulls him up to his lap, wrapping his arms around him.

 

Arthur hisses at the friction of Eames’ pants against his skin, but he writhes into it all the same.

 

“Hey, hey, settle,” Eames soothes. “You’ll damage yourself.”

 

Arthur growls, but tucks his head into Eames’ neck and lets himself be pet.

 

“You were brilliant today, darling. Just amazing. You never stop surprising me, you know that?” Eames rubs behind Arthur’s ear, earning a little lick to his throat. He hums his assent and tilts his head to give Arthur more access. Arthur latches on, sucking and biting a bruise into Eames’ skin where everyone can see it. Eames smiles, it delights him to no end that Arthur’s just as possessive as he is.

 

Eames pulls him away with a sharp tug to his hair when Arthur starts a second mark. He pushes Arthur out of his lap and back to his knees, his cock growing harder with Arthur’s obvious discomfort.

 

“Look at what you’ve done to Daddy’s new chair!” Eames says, pointing to the wet spots between his legs left by Arthur’s leaking cock. “Bad kitty. You’ve got it on my trousers too, you little scamp. Clean it up.”

 

Arthur immediately starts licking at the chair, his saliva only darkening the upholstery and spreading the stain. His tongue moves to Eames’ leg, sucking the fabric into his mouth as he moves upwards. Eames lets him get about as far as he did before, then takes Arthur’s face in his hands.

 

“Good kitten. Come along with Daddy now.” 

 

Eames leads him to the bedroom, fingers stroking through the soft curls at Arthur’s nape as he crawls beside him. He’ll need a haircut this weekend. Sometimes Eames misses the shaggy locks Arthur had when they first met, but it’s too much fun to mess up his carefully slicked back mane, to let him grow it out again.

 

Eames pats the bed and Arthur jumps up, all feline grace that shouldn’t be possible in a man of his size. Eames growls. Arthur’s body is a wonder to him, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of finding and redefining its limits.

 

He gets the slick off the nightstand and moves to the end of the bed, wrapping his hands around Arthur’s slim thighs and pulling the boy to him. The bed is high, and Eames doesn’t have to bend very far to rub his face against Arthur’s abused flesh. Arthur swears loudly at the scrape of Eames’ stubble, and gets a swat.

 

“Bad kitty.” 

 

Arthur lowers himself onto his forearms and spreads his knees. Eames shakes his head, unable to hold back a smile as he slicks two fingers and rubs them around Arthur’s hole. Arthur pushes back, practically purring when Eames breaches him. Eames’ third finger is barely to the second knuckle before Arthur making needy mewls and clenching around him. 

 

“All right pet, all right. Move up a bit and let Daddy get ready.” He’s reaching for a condom with his clean hand when Arthur’s fingers wrap around his wrist.

 

Arthur’s eyes are dark and bright, but he’s fully present, staring at Eames. Eames pulls his hand back and Arthur squeezes tightly before letting go.

 

“Are you sure?” He asks, because this would be a really bad time to get something wrong.

 

“Yes, Daddy.” Arthur whispers, dimples flashing before he buries his face in the covers.

 

Eames takes a breath, pausing for a moment to take stock. They’ve never gone without a condom before, without a barrier between them. Arthur asking for this, allowing this to happen, is not a small step. Arthur knows Eames’ rules. Knows them well enough to understand what he’s asking. This is it. With this request, Arthur’s sending them down the path of always. Of forever. 

 

Eames throws his previous plans out the window and strips quickly. He’d planned to fuck Arthur while still in his suit, then take him for dinner, making him squirm in his seat with the knowledge that Eames’ clothes smelled of sex. Eames’ prediction was that Arthur wouldn’t make it through the entree before begging to suck him off in the bathroom.

 

But this, this calls for something more traditional. Something a little softer. He rolls Arthur onto his back, bullying his way between his thighs until they’re pressed together, their cocks nestled side by side. Eames kisses him, deep and filthy, making Arthur moan and cling to his shoulders.

 

It’s Arthur who pushes him back and lines Eames up at his entrance, like he just can’t wait anymore.

 

“Darling,” Eames breathes as Arthur pulls him closer, opening up and dragging Eames’ cock inside.

 

Arthur bites his bottom lip, the plump flesh going white under the pressure and Eames slides in, steady and unrelenting.

 

“Daddy,” Arthur gasps once Eames is fully seated, Arthur’s legs wrapped around his waist.

 

“It’s going to hurt your backside, there’s nothing I can do.” Eames kisses his nose, his cheek, his brow.

 

“I want to feel you. Let me feel you.” Arthur holds him tighter, yelping when Eames pulls out and plunges back in. 

 

Arthur’s tight and hot, and Eames fucks into him again and again, opening him up, making a place for himself. Eames wants to slow down, to cherish every stroke, but Arthur won’t let him. He pulls Eames to him, arching into each thrust and begging for more. Eames loses himself to the slick slide of their bodies, rutting into Arthur hard and fast. He can feel the angry burn of Arthur’s ass and thighs against his skin, and gets an arm under his lower back, lifting him a little to ease the sting.

 

Arthur gasps, nails scratching down Eames’ arms, his back bowing further as he comes. Arthur’s panting, chest heaving, and cock spurting, and this boy, his boy, is so beautiful Eames could cry. 

 

When he’s done, Arthur throws his arms over his head, body limp against the bed, satisfied smirk on his face.

 

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet, kitten,” Eames says, clasping Arthur’s hands and pressing his weight down, pinning Arthur to the mattress as he fucks into him slowly, building his release. “Not nearly done with you.”

 

Arthur’s eyes are tired, but shining and he smiles up at Eames. “Promise?”

 

Eames buries his face against Arthur’s neck, gasping ‘Yes’ into his skin as he curls their bodies closer together and speeds up. He’s lost in Arthur, can feel nothing but soft skin against his own, wet heat all around him. Arthur’s all he can hear, and see, and smell, and he’s everything Eames has ever wanted. He comes suddenly, cock sunk deep inside Arthur’s body, filling him completely.

 

Arthur grumbles underneath him until Eames sit up and pulls out, collapsing to the bed beside him. Arthur immediately takes his place on Eames’ chest, draping himself across the tattooed skin, flushed and sweaty. He idly traces his fingers over the inked flesh until Eames has caught his breath and wraps his arms around him.

 

Arthur’s his now, in a way he’s never been with anyone else, and Eames is startlingly emotional about it. He rubs Arthur’s back until he gets himself under control, then he tilts Arthur’s face towards him.

 

“Daddy loves you, you know.” Eames rasps, swallowing thickly.

 

Arthur’s grin is blinding, his dimples settling deep in his cheeks. He leans up and delivers a kitten lick to Eames’ nose.

  
“Meow.”


End file.
